


Promise

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, How They Met, Season 5 Episode 13, johnny and moira meet, johnny in the hospital, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 14:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18779875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: "Who's the eyebrows buying the drinks?"As Moira waits at the hospital to hear about Johnny's condition, she flashbacks to how she and Johnny met.  A meet-cute, an attraction, a promise.





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awildone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awildone/gifts).



> A little something written for awildone/[MermaidPurrincess](https://mermaidpurrincess.tumblr.com/) who had requested some Johnny and Moira over on Tumblr.

Moira wrung her hands together as she watched Stevie hug Johnny. What turned out to be a routine morning, was anything but as they now found themselves at Elmdale Hospital. Johnny with chest pains and Moira with an ache in her heart.

“You're gonna be okay,” Stevie said as she held back the tears.

“I'll be fine,” Johnny said reassuringly and Moira watched.

What was going on? He couldn’t go anywhere. Johnny better not even conceive of going anywhere. Their plan all along was to shuffle off their mortal coils simultaneously—and John Michael Rose better keep his damn word. A man was only as good as his word he once told her. Of course, this was when they were partaking in a game of _Scrabble_ , but still.

“Be careful with him!” Moira called out as they wheeled her husband away. “Precious cargo!”

After a few moments, Stevie finally spoke.

“He’s going to be fine, right?” Stevie asked, voice broken.

“Yes, of course. Yes,” Moira said as she sat on the hard plastic chair with a loud thud. “And when he comes back, we shall greet him with our usual alacrity.”

Moira patted Stevie’s hand and gently rocked as she recalled that fateful day, so many years ago…

**+++**

“The Philips Model 7910 microwave oven with defrost! This high-speed cooking tool uses 700-watt power, whilst the defrost button reduces power to 405.”

Moira held her smile, tightly, as she felt a tiny droplet of perspiration trickle down the back of her cheap rayon dress. The goddamn sequins were so itchy and the spotlight was so bright she began to feel woozy. Of course, it didn’t help that the rotating platform she stood on continued on its umpteenth turn. Was all this nonsense really necessary for this damn cooking contraption?

Motioning at the enormous steel _thing_ next to her, she wondered how much more time was left until she could get a break.

“The two-speed timer automatically switches off power. Comes in beige-brown and sleek silver.” 

The announcer of winked at Moira, and she repressed a shudder as she stroked the top of the microwave. The announcer continued his spiel, and god help her, she really needed to pee. She was dying up there. 

This… was not what she left home for. This was not why she graduated valedictorian of Neepawa Central High. No, not her. Not Moira Leeanne Crown.

As the platform rotated, again, her eyes swept the crowd before her. A gaggle of middle-aged men, looking at the next best thing stood in the lumpy crowd before her when she caught a glimpse. Eyebrows, a sympathetic smile, and then the platform turned and he was out of sight. When she had reached the front of the stage again, he was gone. 

Who was that?

About 20 minutes later—although it could have easily been an hour, who can say?—Moira was finally done.

Her roommate, Rochelle, said that some of the other models were heading to the hotel bar for a quick drink before leaving. As far as conventions go, Moira had definitely worked worse. At least the hotel where this one was held had a decent bar.

“Sure, let’s go,” Moira said with a sigh, questioning herself.

The bar blasted Hall and Oates, and immediately Moira decided that maybe she could slip out. If she caught a bus right away, she could be in her bed asleep in an hour.

“Here,” Rochelle said and pressed a Singapore Sling into Moira’s hand. “First one’s on me, Moi.”

Moira took a sip and the cold drink felt like liquid silver as it went down her throat. She let out a heavy exhale that ran bone deep. The musical stylings around her did little ease. Turning to look for Rochelle, she noticed that she was already striking up a conversation with two men. Far be it from her to block any amorous attempts, but Moira was once again regretting her choices. Just then, she heard a hearty laugh coming from the other side of the bar. 

It was him, the man she saw earlier at the convention center.

Moira studied him briefly as he conversed. He was tall, rugged, had such a handsome interesting face. And when the other people spoke, he really listened. He was paying honest to goodness attention. Moira could spot disinterest a mile away, and this man was genuine in his interactions.

Just then, Rochelle sidled up to Moira.

“Larry over here says he wants to take us out for a steak dinner. You in?”

“What?” she asked as she turned away from looking at the man.

“Steak dinner?”

Moira turned back and pointed with her head. “Who’s the eyebrows buying the drinks?”

Larry joined them and handed Moira another drink which she promptly placed to the side. 

“That’s Jonathan Rose. Goes by John. He just started some tape rental company or something. Don’t really know him, but I hear he thinks he’s onto something big.”

“So, dinner?” Rochelle asked.

John laughed, and Moira liked the way his eyes crinkled when he did. There was something whimsical about it, about him.

“Oh, thank you. No. I’m going to imbibe my libation and then head home.”

She offered a weak yawn and Rochelle smirked.

“Right. Home.” She leaned in and gave Moira a quick peck on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

Moira waved and watched John some more, completely fascinated. She was used to seeing men be facsimiles of what they thought a man should be: brutish, loud, overbearing, posturing. With this stranger, she sensed something… gentle. How odd.

“Moira, snap out of it. You’re being ridiculous and you should be going home,” she said to herself.

That’s all she needed—some distraction that she would see a few times, and then never hear from again. She had plans and goals, none of which involved heartbreak or disappointment. None of those shenanigans, thank you very much.

She turned back to face the bar, tipped back the last bit of her drink and exited the establishment. And, she decided right then and there that she’d treat herself to a cab. Why not? She was tired and she most certainly deserved it.

As she sat outside waiting for a cab, she heard someone clear their throat.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.”

It was him. John Rose.

“Hello,” he said.

“If you say so,” Moira replied with a raised brow.

“It was a bit too loud in there,” he said.

“Yes, the cacophony was overwhelming,” she replied curtly.

“The cacophony, huh?” he said with a smile in his voice.

Moira shrugged.

“Are you waiting for a cab?” John asked.

“Yes. I’m tired and I want to go home.”

“I guess I’m waiting, too. I don’t suppose we can wait together? I mean, only if that would be okay. I don’t want to be some creep. I’m sure you get enough of those already.”

Moira turned and looked at John. She gave him a quick once over. “You haven’t set off any of my creep alarms, so you may stay.”

He smiled broadly. “Well, thank you very much. One should aspire not to set off any of those.”

Just then, a cab pulled up.

“Here, let me get that for you,” John said opened the door for Moira.

“Thank you.”

“May you have restful and uneventful night, Miss, um...” John said as he closed her door.

She rolled down the window.

“Crown. Moira Crown.”

John offered his hand and shook it firmly, but not overbearingly so.

“John Rose.”

“Where to?” the cab driver asked brusquely.

Moira turned to look at John. Why not? 

“Are you hungry?”

“I could nosh,” he said.

She slid over wordlessly, and he smiled as he jumped in the cab.

“So? Where to?” the cab driver asked again.

“I know just the place,” she said.

 

The Seven Dwarves 24-hour diner was fairly empty for a weekend. Moira scooted into the booth, and John slid in at the opposite end. She appreciated that he had given her space.

“So, you come here often?” he asked with a smile as he pointed at the menu and with its oddly drawn dwarves on the cover.

“Oh yes, this is the place for nouveau cuisine, don’t you know?” she said with a straight face. “The head chef at Le Cirque was buzzing around here just last week.”

“I’ve heard! Their corned beef sandwiches are something to aspire to,” he volleyed back.

“I’m more of a croque monsieur sort of woman.”

“I have been known to enjoy a cup of navy bean soup every now and then.”

Moira laughed and shook her head.

“Navy bean soup? You don’t seem like a militia enthusiast.”

“Not much of a soup man, either,” he said.

Their waitress came and took their order, and Moira couldn’t help but smile when John ordered the croque monsieur.

“So, John, tell me about yourself,” Moira said as she opened a packet of saltines.

John hummed softly to himself. “Let’s see. My favorite color is blue, I enjoy a good bagel, I was the best hitter on my Hebrew school baseball team, and I think corgis’ legs are funniest things ever to walk the earth.”

Moira smiled. She had prepared herself to hear all about John’s ambitions and plans and showing off, so hearing about corgis’ legs was… nice. Odd, but nice.

“You know, you don’t look like a John.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “You’re much too soft to be a John. From now on, you’re Johnny.”

“Soft?” he laughed. “If you say so. Okay, Johnny it is.”

“You’re going to let me baptize you, just like that?”

“I’m Jewish, but it’s fine,” he shrugged with a grin.

By the time their food arrived, they had been sharing work battle scars, and Moira couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed as much—or felt at ease—as she did with Johnny.

“One time, I was at Woolworth’s giving out detergent samples and one of their damn parakeet budgies, from the pet department, escaped.”

Johnny’s eyes grew wide. “What happened.”

“The little rapscallion landed on my table, so I tried to pick it up and it latched onto my finger!”

Johnny began to cackle.

“I screamed and ran around the store with the infernal thing gripping onto my finger as if it were its lifeline.”

She held out her index finger toward Johnny.

“See? Scarred for life.”

Johnny pressed a kiss to his own finger then quickly brushed it against Moira’s. 

“There. Magical Rose healing powers.”

Moira pulled her hand away and cleared her throat.

“Thank you.”

The two looked at their plates awkwardly, and Johnny finally spoke.

“I think your animal injuries outweigh my VCR on the big toe.”

“Well, mine is a glamorous and exotic life, isn’t it?” she smiled. “So videotapes, you said?”

“Yes,” Johnny said as he perked up again. “So I’ll have all the latest movies and you can rent them for two days.” 

“I read that somewhere that _LAH-zur_ discs are the future.”

“I’m sorry, what discs?” John asked.

“ _LAH-zur_ discs.”

Johnny smiled with confusion and Moira looked back expectantly.

“Oh… OH! Do you mean _laser_ discs?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“Laser.”

“ _LAH-zur_.”

“Laser,” Johnny enunciated slowly.

“ _LAH-zur_ ,” Moira repeated. “That’s what I said.”

“Well,” Johnny grinned, “I’ll keep that in mind—but rumor has it, I have yet to make a bad business decision in my life.”

“Oh, and who started that rumor?” Moira asked with an eyebrow raised.

Johnny laughed and shrugged as Moira took another bite of the meal.

“Who knows? But I can say that I have yet to be wrong, and furthermore, one day your movies will be in my store. You’ll be movie land's brightest star,” Johnny said. 

Moira smiled and took a sip of her tea.

They stayed at the diner for several hours talking and getting to know each other, finding out just how much they had in common. They both enjoyed an easy camaraderie, which was surprising considering they had just met. Moira then realized the time. 

“Oh my, it’s 3:00 in the morning. I have to go,” she said and noticed Johnny’s face fell.

“I can get you a cab.” 

He plopped some money on the table and got up to follow her. 

“There’s no need… I actually just live around the corner from here.”

“Can I walk you home?” he asked.

Moira felt her stomach drop. So, that’s all he wanted. She sighed; she was tired and just wanted to go home.

“Fine, but that’s all.”

Johnny looked at her with confusion. “What else would there be?”

Moira paused to study him again. She had grown so accustomed to men wanting, expecting, demanding, and she had had a lovely time with Johnny, so she prayed he wasn’t going to be like the others. Those others who only saw Moira the Model, but never Moira the Person.

The two walked down the street to Moira’s apartment in silence. She stopped in front of the apartment building door and pointed at the door.

“This is it.”

“Thank you for letting me walk you home,” Johnny said.

He sounded so earnest, Moira began to think he might actually be sincere. 

“Well, good night,” she said and offered her hand. “Thank you for dinner and the chat.”

Johnny shook her hand and said, “I’d like to see you again if that’s all right.”

Moira was surprised that he hadn’t insisted on coming up; that she wasn’t fighting him off. Still, she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Here’s my number. I’m giving it to you so that the ball is in your court. If you feel like calling me, I’ll be there waiting. And if you don’t… well, I’ll be sad but I thank you for the company, Ms. Crown.”

He took out his card from his wallet and handed it to her.

“I don’t know--” she began.

“You know,” he said, “I think you are absolutely, one hundred percent perfect, and I adore everything about you.”

Moira smiled in spite of herself and put the card in her pocket.

“Good night, Johnny.”

He smiled. “Good night, Moira.”

He gave her a quick salute and then turned to walk away but stopped halfway down the block and called out to her.

“Think about it. We’ll probably end up being a love story for the ages. We’ll even die on the same day—people will talk about it for years.”

Moira smiled as she waved. 

“Fine, you cad!” she called back. “Promise?”

“Promise!” He smiled once again. “Good night, Moira.” 

“Good night.” 

She smiled and slowly closed the door with a happy sigh.

**+++**

"Mr. Rose is gonna be fine,” Stevie said as she rocked gently in her chair. “He has to be.”

Moira could see the tension running through Stevie. Everyone loved Johnny—how could they not?

“Mrs. Rose?” the doctor asked as he came out to the waiting room.

Moira stood up and braced herself.

"Hey, folks... I have an update on Mr. Rose's condition," he said.

Moira could only half-hear was he was saying. After she heard him say Johnny was fine, everything else became a blur. He was fine. Her Johnny was fine. 

“John, you scared me!” she later called out when he finally returned to the waiting room.

Moira looked at Johnny and buried herself into his shoulder. Moira couldn’t even think about a life without him. How would she do it? How could she move forward without her best friend? The one person who knew everything about her, all her faults and flaws, and still loved her with the same ardent intensity she loved him. It was the two of them together, against the world, forever. She knew Johnny wouldn’t back out on their mutual pact.

He had promised, and Johnny Rose always kept his promises.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say hi [on Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/) where I am eternally practicing my Moira Rose accent.


End file.
